Gintama - A Second Chance
by HeroFiend
Summary: When Sakata Gintoki finds himself in the past with all memories intact, he faces an imminent decision. Will he take the chance to rewrite history itself; even if it could mean a future with no Yorozuya Gin-chan? Possible AU.
1. Prologue

**Genre: Drama/Humour**

**Rating: K+ (Pretty kid-friendly, if I may say so myself.)**

**Disclaimer: All rights belong to the ingenious gorilla, Sorachi Hideaki.**

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**Gintama - A Second Chance**

**Prologue**

"G…n...ki…"

"Gin...oki…"

"Gintoki!"

Snorting, a certain wavy-haired individual refused to open his eyelids; even going so far as to cover his ears with both hands. He had been having this nice, dreamy sleep and _nobody _was going to disturb him. Not even if it was a horribly familiar voice trying to cajole him awake…

Sakata Gintoki's eyes snapped open despite himself. He slowly turned his head; a disbelieving expression etched all over his face.

"Finally…" the painfully familiar voice resonated again. "How many times have I told you not to doze off in class, Gintoki?"

The silver-haired samurai's eyes widened as his mind struggled to process everything in sight. What was happening? Wasn't he in a dream? Was this another dream? Had he somehow accomplished the art of Dreamception in his sleep? He subconsciously lifted a hand; pinching his right cheek with unwavering force. It hurt… _a lot._ He wasn't in a dream… Everything was real…

He inadvertently let out a gasp once he caught sight of his own hand. It was strangely small… and conspicuously lacking the roughness and veins that had emerged over the years. He gingerly felt his bruised cheek; it was soft and supple, practically bouncing with baby fats. Casting his dead fish eyes to the floor, he absorbed the sight of his body. He was wearing a deep blue _keikogi_ over a small body…

Gintoki cupped the length of his left arm with the other hand. His biceps and triceps were totally undefined; in fact, there was hardly a trace of defined muscle in his entire physique.

The silver-haired samurai slowly inclined his head again; the entire room seemed to be staring at him in inquisitiveness. His dead-fish eyes searched the span of the room with increasing disbelief, until he lands his eyes on the man with long grey-brown hair at the front. The wavy-haired individual's fists clenched instinctively. What was this? Why was he here? How was this even _possible_?

The silver-haired samurai could feel his own heart screaming in shock and bewilderment. Memories began to flood his mind; memories that he had painfully put behind him in the hopes of achieving a new life. Memories that should have been stashed away for _eternity... _He gritted his teeth, trying desperately to shut out all vision and hearing.

"Gintoki…"

It proved to be futile once the familiar voice carried over to him. It was just _impossible _to ignore and evade. A visual of a decapitated head cropped out of nowhere, forcing him to pry open his eyelids.

"Gintoki," his long-deceased sensei, Yoshida Shouyo, inquired concernedly. "What's wrong…?"

The wavy-haired individual was silent as he came to a gradual realization. He took in the familiar faces of a certain would-be terrorist and a would-be world-destroying maniac, alongside the faces of those that shouldn't even be _alive_; well, unless his crazy theory was placed in use.

He had somehow reverted to his childhood state. As of now, he was officially stuck in homeroom class with a bunch of clueless children and the deceased teacher he had adored; with all the memories and skills of the future…


	2. Chapter 1

**Genre: Drama/Humour**

**Rating: K+ (Pretty kid-friendly, if I may say so myself.)**

**Disclaimer: All rights belong to the ingenious gorilla, Sorachi Hideaki.**

**A/N: Alright guys, I owed you this chapter for a _really _long time. As a payment of sorts, I made this chapter _really _long as well. Sincerely hope that you guys will like it; if there's anything that draws your ire or stuff, please let me know. ;)**

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**Gintama - A Second Chance**

**Chapter 1**

Gintoki could feel a gazillion pointed stares directed at him right at that very moment; in truth, he wanted to stare at himself as well and ask: why the hell are you trapped in a kid's body and taking homeroom lessons with a bunch of premature kids?

But he couldn't, so he tried to amend the situation. He was Sakata Gintoki, a Shounen Jump protagonist; such things don't faze a guy like him. All he needed to correct those irritating gazes were simply natural good looks and a healthy wink. Well, some dazed protestations couldn't go wrong as well. Thus, he held back his almost unhealthy stare at a clearly creeped out Takasugi and lifted his hand to his nose. Oh yeah, some healthy nose-picking will surely help as well.

"Nothing's wrong, Sensei," the silver-haired child picked his nose, ignoring the looks of disgust that were literally shooting at him. "It's just that…"

"Just that…?" Yoshida echoed uncertainly; the whole class seemed to sit a bit nearer in their seats.

"Just that…" Gintoki grinned.

"Just that…?" the entire class echoed this time.

"It's just that I thought that I was still in a dream, you know," Gintoki flicked a booger at his neighbour. Completely disregarding the frantic motions to clear a huge, messy and green booger out of one's hair, the silver-haired child settled his small hands on his knees. "I was in this room full of little kids and they were killing each other and I thought that I was still in the dream-"

"Alright, alright," Yoshida said quickly. It was clear from his expression that he was uncomfortable with the contents spewing out of the silver-haired child. The tense silence emanating from the class was a tell-tale sign of the discomfit as well. "It's alright, Gintoki. There's no need to continue your story." With that, he turned back to the board, although there was an awkward movement about him that wasn't there just a moment ago.

Gintoki tried to act reproachful, but in reality, he was feeling the tresses of relief. He wasn't able to meet the eyes of his teacher; it hurts too much for him to even look at the older man's profile for more than a minute. Instead, he had gazed at a spot close to his teacher's head. It had been white, a creamy and boring white, but still comforting to the eyes. Additionally, his excuse had been one of the worst he had ever come up with. What the hell was he doing, spouting such sadistic stuff in front of his teacher and a bunch of hairless brats? In fact, he had been so out-of-character that he wouldn't be surprised if one of the kids jumped up and proclaimed him as some shape-shifting Amanto.

How did his child-self act, he gritted his teeth and thought. If his mind didn't fail him, he seemed to recall that he was this really cool and popular kid… like hell he was. Nobody was going to dig a kid who picks his nose on a daily basis. He concentrated instead on his past mannerisms; had he been a quiet kid who shuns away from other people? Had he been a sociable and loud-mouthed kid with too much free time to spare? He shook his head absently; he doesn't remember being either of the aforementioned personalities. But then, how did he behave? It was a real bummer; he really didn't want to risk disappearing or something; he had nearly died on a previous time-travelling expedition after all. As a result, he can't let anybody know that he was actually a twenty-plus year old man in a small child's body; the results might be catastrophic. In the worst case scenario, he might never have even existed in the first place, which was hardly ideal for a Shounen Jump protagonist…

"Gintoki!" a call erupted out of nowhere, jerking Gintoki from his thoughts. Blinking, the silver-haired child gazed ahead to catch a reproachful expression on his teacher's face. It was fleeting though; the next second, he was admiring the splendidly boring upholstery again. "Yes, Sensei…?"

Gintoki caught his teacher shaking his head out of the corner of his dead fish eye; his teacher was apparently used to his frequent daydream visits.

"I asked, Gintoki," Yoshida sighed. "Did you catch what I said about page 49 of the textbook?"

The silver-haired child blinked. Page 49…? Wasn't it the one where you protect your own comrades to the end…? He casted his sight downwards; all of a sudden, he was unwilling to commune with anyone beyond his comfort zone. Nevertheless, he forced himself to nod slowly; to act any quirkier was to push the limits themselves.

At his nod, the very air seemed to shift in atmosphere. Curious, Gintoki inclined his gaze unsteadily and absorbed a multitude of gaping faces. What, was it so surprising that he actually caught on to something his own teacher had imparted? Had he really been that dazed and dreamy as a child? It was hard to believe, seeing as he was practically a man of wise and capable proportions in the future.

"Y-You caught on?" Gintoki subtly registered the vague tone of disbelief in his teacher's voice. Geez, even his own teacher was finding it hard to believe. Amazing. Slowly, he nodded his head again, taking care to take in that intricate detail on the white wall as he faced the older man. The fleetest glance told him that his own teacher was sporting a vaguely hesitant expression on his face.

"Very well, Gintoki," Yoshida said slowly. "Could you perhaps provide a summarization of page 49 for the class?"

The silver-haired child considered the question with increasing hesitancy. Protecting his own comrades to the end… who was he to preach such stuff in front of the very own comrades he had failed to protect? Yet, he had nodded; it will be even weirder and awkward to back out at this junction. Steadying his breath, he stared at the wooden table in front of him as he spoke. "P-Protect your comrades… till the end… for, without comrades…" he gulped, long-lost memories surfacing and flitting across his dead-fish eyes. "Life is empty." He finished with a hollow feeling in his gut.

_Bodies, numerous bodies strewn across the blood-red surface generously; his face absorbed the sickening sight with forced calm. He wanted to retch, to cry, to weep, to lament. He could do neither of them. For if even the Shiroyasha breaks down, morale will hit rock-bottom. M-More people… will die._

Entrapped in his own thoughts, he did not register a loud silence that followed his words. When he finally dismissed the disturbing thoughts that clouded his mind, he saw the jaw-dropping profiles of his fellow classmates. He raised an eyebrow in response. Had he really been sleeping in class, daydreaming and not paying attention _on a daily basis_?

"T-That's correct," Yoshida said, clear hint of disbelief in his words this time. Gintoki ruffled his own wavy hair absently; it looks like as a child, he was every bit the same as a certain redhead.

When the bell finally rang (There was a bell at this time of age?), Gintoki could only absorb the oddly familiar sound; he did not know what to do. Where was he supposed to go now? What did he use to do back in the past – hang out with the kids and read Shounen Jumps? Wait, has Shounen Jump even been published at this time already? He guessed so; Kochikame had been running for 30 odd years already, after all.

He could hear chattering, jabbering, prattling, rambling and whatnot as the class shuffled out enthusiastically for their break (Was it lunchtime? Great, he was starving. Wait a minute… was his appetite still kid-sized or adult-sized? His lunchtime portion is definitely not going to be enough if his appetite was still adult-sized.) He narrowed his eyes; there was no other choice. He was going to have to reach the cafeteria (was it a cafeteria?) before everyone else and get as many servings as he could. Perhaps 5 servings will be ample; a parfait won't go wrong as well. With that in mind, Gintoki pushed himself off the floor and start ambling towards the open doorway.

"Wait, Gintoki!"

The silver-haired child froze. There it was, the moment he had been dreading for the entire period of the homeroom lesson; a personal interrogation by the very man he could not afford to look in the eyes. Slowly, he turned towards the long-haired man, taking special care to concentrate on an intricate spot just above the teacher's head. He felt sure that if he chanced upon those wise and kind eyes, he was going to suffer nightmares for the rest of the week. Not your usual see that ghost in the cupboard nightmare, mind you. It's more of a scream and wet your pants kind of nightmare.

"Yes, Sensei…?" he asked softly.

He could feel his teacher's intense gaze; he subconsciously gulped. Had his teacher realized that he was not meeting his eyes? A tense silence emerged, during which Gintoki will have given anything to just run out of the door there and then. (Well, by anything, perhaps Shounen Jump was still off-limits. In fact, _anything_ should constitute of 300 yen. Yeah, that should be ample enough) He slowly turned his own gaze to his feet; he vapidly registered the fact that he was wearing brown sandals; his black boots have apparently been left behind in the future. Wait, why was he admiring his own shoes? What's there to admire anyway? He just wants to go home, to go back to the comfortable future where he could lounge around and drink strawberry milk and binge on mangas without a single rat's fart!

"Gintoki, I will just like to ask… did something happen during the start of the class?" Yoshida asked with a trace of concern in his voice.

The silver-haired child continued looking at the floor. Did something happen during the start of the class? Yeah, something happened. He had travelled to the past, saw his long-dead sensei and went through a torrid experience trying to piece back why he was here. Speaking about it, he had no idea why he was even here in the first place. Everything before that was a buzz – a faint hum that did not offer anything whatsoever. He could only suspect that the old man Gengai had something to do with it all, but why he will want to transport him back to the past was a mystery on its own.

"Gintoki…? Did you catch what I said?" Yoshida asked.

Gintoki jerked out of his daze. Crap, he spaced out again. But then, what was he supposed to reply? He couldn't possibly say that he was from a future where the older man was lying in a grave as a headless corpse, his best students were undeniable terrorists and the rest of the class were lying in graves as well, could he? It might stretch the limits for even his teacher, whom he fondly remembered had a superb arsenal of patience. In the worst case scenario, he might be sent off to the local mental hospital for a real case of delusional-time-traveller-syndrome or something.

Alright, he can do this. As long as he conjures some believable lie, he will be able to get out of this stifling situation. He will be able to cram as much food as he wanted; as many parfaits as he wanted and read as many mangas as he wanted. All he got to do… was to… _lie _to his teacher. Somehow, that didn't sound as easy as it looks. What could he do at this moment…? Gritting his teeth, he slowly opened his mouth. Anything goes at this moment, to heck with everything else.

"I-I…"

"Did they create trouble for you again?"

Gintoki froze; he registered the grave tone of his teacher, but more importantly, the question itself. Funny how more-than-a-decade-old related questions could shake him so much. Of course… he had forgotten, hadn't he? He clenched his fists; he will have to go through _all that _again? All that time of being despised, being criticised, being drawn flak on and being judged for a kid who roamed the battlefield, salvaging for food amidst a sea of red. Yes, he wasn't a quiet and lonely kid; he wasn't even the local popular kid. He was, to say the truth, the kid who got so tired of all the insults that he simply tuned out all sounds and sights, preferring to languish in his daydreams and fantasies of the open world.

"Gintoki…?"

The silver-haired child did not react; he didn't know how. All those years of development and change and here he was again, supposedly intending to relive everything. What was he, a well-built tank who could withstand bazooka explosions? He was just a mere human for freaking sake; he can't handle such delicate stuff. He subconsciously clenched his teeth; if he ever gets back to the future, he was going to hunt down the perpetrator and deliver his own brand of justice. Perhaps some to-the-death strangling could work.

"Gintoki… I know that they have been bothering you. You just have to tell me, and I will help-"

"Everything's fine, Sensei," the silver-haired child finally chose to reply. That was right; his past-self did not seek help from his own teacher, neither does he need to. Besides, he mentally smirked; he will like to see those kids reach even an arm's length of him. "It was just that I had this bad dream… and I was shocked by it… that's all…"

"But, Gintoki-"

"Sorry, Sensei," the silver-haired child quickly cut off an affronted Yoshida. "I got to get my food before it runs out. See you later!" With that, he nearly turned over tables in his haste to get to the door, leaving a silent Yoshida Shouyo in his wake.

"But, Gintoki… the food only runs out when _you're _there…" the long-haired man muttered. He watched as his silver-haired protégé left the classroom, the familiar, brown sword missing at the child's side.

**-.X.-**

The silver-haired child burst out of the door, around the corner and right into two evidently eavesdropping kids. Sent to the floor (Damn it, even his strength feels as fragile as a kid), he shook his head and slowly inclined his gaze. A raven-haired kid with a ponytail was staring at the ceiling; a kid with short-black hair was rubbing his own head. Gintoki instantly tensed; his last meeting with the latter hadn't been a pleasant one after all.

_Calm down, Gintoki… Calm down. This is not the Takasugi who aims to destroy the world… at least not yet._

He forced himself to smile. "Hello, Zura, Takasugi." (Damn it, he was the one who got injured here. Why should he act like he was the one who had eavesdropped and got discovered by somebody else?)

They took a while to reply to his polite greeting. (Why the hell does he need to greet them politely? They are terrorists for freaking sake!) The kid with a ponytail gradually ceased seeing stars and sat upright on the floor; the kid with the short-black hair practically glared at Gintoki. (Glare…? Glare…? Shouldn't _he _be the one glaring instead?)

"It's not Zura, it's Katsura!" Katsura Kotaro protested. (It seems that they have already been calling him Zura at this time. Great, he won't have to change his freaking speech pattern for now.) "Why were you so hurried-"

"What did Shouyo-sensei call you for?" Takasugi Shinsuke cut in, ignoring a clearly mortified Katsura. Gintoki raised an eyebrow; has the would-be destroyer's teacher-con acted up at such a young age already?

"Ah, you know," the silver-haired child picked his nose with his little finger. "Mysteries and lies that rake this world, he told me. Enlightening, it was. But more importantly, what are _you _doing here?"

Their sheepish expressions served to confirm his theory. (Wait, Takasugi has a _sheepish_ expression?)

"So…" Gintoki raised an eyebrow. "Been eavesdropping…?"

The kids' faces turned towards the floor. The silver-haired child smirked. Kids were so easy to manipulate… geez. He closed his eyes and grinned. "I have a right mind to tell Sensei that you were _spying_-"

"Wait!" Takasugi protested. Gintoki opened his eyes teasingly to meet a pair of desperate ones. "Zura wanted to peep; I just went along because I wanted to stop him! That's all!"

"It's not Zura! It's Katsura!" the ponytailed kid exhibited a dramatic sweep of his hand. "And you said that you wanted to listen too! You said it yourself!"

"I-I didn't!" Takasugi raised his voice. "I-"

"Hang on, kids," Gintoki interrupted. He began steering the brats away from the classroom. The least he wanted was for his teacher to come out and check for the source of the noises. "Let's go to the cafeteria; you can have your argument, I will have my food. Oh yeah, in return for not reporting your peeping tendencies to Sensei, you have to give me your desserts; deal?"

Their faces turned towards him simultaneously. For the first time ever (as far as Gintoki could recall), they spoke together and _agreed _on the same thing. The silver-haired child could hardly hold back a snicker; has the sky turned red?

"Blackmail…" they echoed simultaneously.

When they reached the school's cafeteria, it was chock-full with kids waving their hands and screaming for their portions. Gintoki narrowed his eyes; he was going to get his food, even if it costs him a tooth and nail… literally. He turned towards the already bickering couple behind him.

"Alright, Zura, Takasugi," the silver-haired child stood with his hands placed neatly behind his back. "As you can see…" he gestured to the influx of hungry brats. "Our food is being snatched away right in front of our eyes."

They looked at him blankly. He switched his gaze from one to the other, before sighing. "_Any ideas _on how we could get our food without crashing into each other?"

Katsura and Takasugi looked at him, before looking at each other. The next second, the ponytailed kid had his arm raised in the air. Gintoki gave a faint smile and asked, "Yes, Zura?"

"Firstly, it's not Zura. It's Katsura!" Katsura said, his eyes never leaving Gintoki. "Secondly, you seem… different today, Gintoki…"

"I hate to agree with this guy, but yeah…" Takasugi was looking at him with equal curiousness. "You're acting strangely today, Gintoki…"

The silver-haired child gritted his teeth. How else was he supposed to act? Was he supposed to act like his child-self? That was impossible, impossible for even someone like Brad Pitt. Firstly, he was crap at acting. Secondly, he just says whatever comes to mind. Thirdly, he wanted to get his food; everything else could come after for all he cares.

Gintoki started. "It-"

"But it's alright," Katsura said. Gintoki slowly looked at him, his eyebrow raised. "Sorry, what did you just say?" he asked softly.

"It's alright," the ponytailed kid smiled. He looked at Takasugi, who hesitantly let a flicker of a smile pass through his lips. "Right, Takasugi?"

The kid with the short-black hair shot an almost fleeting glance at his ponytailed counterpart, before looking at Gintoki with an almost appraising gaze. "Yeah," he said. "It's like you finally opened up, Gintoki."

The silver-haired child didn't know what to say, but he got one thing settled. If these kids thought that he had simply gone through his pre-pubescent phase and become a straight-talking male, he was fine by it. He could keep talking whatever he felt like talking with nobody the wiser. But, as his stomach had been reminding him for the past hour or so, it was not the time for talking. It was time for food-hunting.

He looked at the couple of kids in front of him, then at the stream of kids flowing from the food stand, then back again. Slowly, he began to smirk. Sometimes, being an adult trapped in a kid's body had its perks.

"Do either of you have a firecracker or something?"

Ten minutes later, the three were huddled around one another in a circle. Each of the faces was exhibiting a serious expression. Gintoki slowly looked at each of the kids' faces, before saying softly, "You ready?"

The nods of their heads elicited a grin from the silver-haired child. "Very well," Gintoki said with a smile on his face. "Let's go, people! For the food…!"

"For the food…!" Katsura repeated enthusiastically. Takasugi was tight-lipped; he seemed unwilling to spout out such childish stuff. But then, Gintoki didn't expect otherwise from the would-be destroyer of the planet. With a quick motion from the silver-haired child, they were off, Katsura to the courtyard just next to the cafeteria and the others to the never-ending line of kids hustling for their food. When they were at their respective positions, they looked at each other from across the distance.

With a nod of his head, Gintoki mouthed," Set it off." Katsura complied in return and crouched on his knees. The next second, a loud bang occurred in the courtyard.

Gintoki had to admit that Zura seemed to have a knack for setting off explosive stuff even from a young age; he whistled wistfully as panicked shouts erupted from the line. Kids were running everywhere in clear distress and shock, just as planned.

"Hey!" a cry erupted from the hallway that led to the cafeteria. The panicked kids stopped just briefly to see a waving Katsura. "An alien has entered the school! Follow me if you don't wish to get operated on by an alien!"

Oh yeah, Gintoki had to admit that Zura had a way of swaying people to his side as well. Most of the time, they were empty-minded idiots though. He watched on as the group of kids paused for the briefest of moments before rampaging towards the calling Zura. After the silver-haired child made sure that every kid was clear from the stall, he trod quickly towards a pair of blank-looking cafeteria ladies.

"Ten portions of curry rice with twenty portions of dessert please," he said quickly. "And Takasugi here will have- Takasugi?" he looked back over his shoulder. The kid was looking disgruntled for some reason. Gintoki's eyes narrowed – he knew the reason for that look and wasn't proud to know it.

"Takasugi," he said, snapping the other out of his trance. The kid turned towards him questioningly. "What is it, Gintoki?"

"Get the _food_," he instructed. Takasugi blinked, before hurrying to the counter.

"Takasugi will have twenty portions of curry rice with forty portions of dessert please."

A minute later, both of them were struggling under the sheer weight of curry rice and dessert. Panting, they tried to lift the food to their designated meeting location – a secretive area right behind the school's compound – that Zura had suggested. It proved to be incredibly tough; before long, they were huffing uncontrollably.

"Why…" Takasugi mustered through a dozen sacks of food. He looked to be on the verge of collapsing, not that Gintoki was doing any better. "Did you ask for… so much…?"

"Because," the silver-haired child gritted his teeth. "I'm _hungry_." (His stomach was making these really loud noises that he was surprised that Takasugi hadn't made a single passing mention on it)

"Seriously…" the kid muttered under his breath. Gintoki had to strain his ear to catch the words. "Just how hungry can you get…? It's like you have a bottomless pit inside you-"

"I knew it. I _knew _it." A voice streamed from behind. Pausing, the two of them slowly looked back over their shoulders. Gintoki did not know why, but he stiffened. Something about that orange hair and those small, beady caramel eyes was horribly familiar to him. The fact that the boy was flanked by two other lanky followers was a sight that was bitingly painful for some reason.

"Know…?" the silver-haired child tried to laugh; it came off as more of a croak. "Know what-"

"Shut the hell up, demon. I didn't ask you to talk," the large kid with the orange hair spat on the floor. All of a sudden, Gintoki was feeling small… really small. It was uncomfortable.

A pair of caramel eyes stared at him with clear, open disdain; the silver-haired child stood still as the large kid began to approach ever nearer. "I should have known. Who else will set off such a ruckus and get everyone scared? Who else… other than you, the corpse-stripping demon himself…?"

Gintoki didn't even know why he was hesitating; he was a grown-up for freaking sake. What was he doing, getting all scared of a big kid like that? But, he couldn't fathom the reason either. All he knew was that his hands were trembling by his sides, his lips were quivering and his mind was blank.

He should have known that he couldn't have just acquired a free ticket back to his past-self; somewhere, somehow, his child-self was fighting against him in his own body, trying to break free of his cage. And for some reason, his child-self had an almost morbid fear of this particular big kid. He sighed and closed his eyes; he knew why he was afraid of this kid; he had always known.

The one who had forced him to tune out every single thing in his life… was none other than this orange-haired kid, after all. Mashiro Moritaka, the kid who made his childhood hell.

Gintoki could hear the orange-haired kid standing right before him. He could sense the judging gaze directed at him; he could sense the hatred emanating from the kid. Squeezing his fists, he closed his eyes and concentrated.

**-.X.-**

"What, you're closing your eyes?" the large kid laughed openly. Behind him, his lackeys chortled loudly as well. "Are you _that _scared of me?" There was a pause, before the orange-haired kid snickered. "What have you got there, demon? Been stripping the corpses of their food again? Or rather, their _meat…_?"

Mashiro laughed again, echoed instantaneously by the guffaws of his stupid-sounding followers. "You," he said suddenly, looking at Takasugi pointedly. "You're that kid in class who's always cupping his own chin, right?"

"So what if I am?" Takasugi said coldly.

"Well, you look like you're struggling under that baggage," Mashiro snickered. Holding out his hand, he coughed. "Why don't I help you take some of it- actually, why don't _we _help you take _all _of that?"

Takasugi stared at them impassively. "Sorry but no thank you. We've got an idiot to feed here. His appetite is too large for even a single packet to be missing-"

The trio began to crack their knuckles in a menacing fashion, their eyes glaring at him. Takasugi, despite his cool exterior, could not help but take a tentative step back. He will have whipped their asses in kendo training, but here in an open area with no weapons and a mere spacing-out kid beside him, he was having serious doubts about the entire match-up. Not to mention the fact that he was up against _three _opponents, all of whom were taller than him. He clicked his teeth; even that ponytailed idiot will have been an appreciated ally at the moment.

"Give me your food," Mashiro voiced threateningly. It wasn't a question; it was a statement. Takasugi could feel sweat forming in his forehead. Shooting a furtive glance at his partner, who was still closing his own eyes, he turned back to the menacing figures in front of him. They were likely to lose if they actually protested, yet simply submitting their hard-earned food to a bunch of idiots like them was a hard fact to swallow. Once again, he lamented his lack of a wooden sword by his side. They will be roasted like pigs if he had his _bokutou_ with him.

It was hard to even say, but he forced himself to do so. Gritting his teeth, he looked at the silver-haired child. "Gintoki," he muttered. "Let's give them the food. Let's go back for another serving instead-"

"Oh, did I mention?" Mashiro cut in tauntingly. Takasugi glared at the orange-haired kid. He hated people cutting across his own words like that. "Did I mention that…" Mashiro smirked. "The cafeteria is officially out of stock? That's right; there's _no more _food."

Takasugi could feel anger coursing through his veins. They were not just idiots; they were irritating bastards. "Do you really have to corner us like that?" he retorted. "We haven't eaten!"

He clenched his fists at his sides as he watched the orange-haired kid shrug. "Not my fault," Mashiro said in a fake apologetic tone. "The cafeteria just happened to close; I'm _innocent_." Here, he turned back to his followers and shared an irritatingly loud chortle between them. Turning around to face them again, the orange-haired kid reached out a hand. "Now, if you could _kindly _give us the food…?" Mashiro asked with a smirk.

Takasugi glared at him for what seemed like minutes, before breathing out in forced relent. Closing his eyes, he started to push the packages of food towards the orange-haired kid. When the goods have successfully switched hands, he shot a furtive glance at his left, where Gintoki was _actually _still closing his eyes. His right eye twitched; has the silver-haired kid actually fallen asleep while standing?

"Gintoki," he said exasperatedly. There was no response. Sighing, he reached out his hands to prise the food out of the silver-haired kid's hold. However, before he even managed to touch the very plastic of the packages, another hand shot out and knocked him aside.

Takasugi looked up sharply; the orange-haired kid was grinning at him. "What did you do that for?" he demanded coldly. "I was trying to get it for you!"

"I appreciate your concern," Mashiro cackled. "But I wish to get it _myself_, if that's alright?" He attempted to display a pair of gross-looking puppy eyes, which just turned Takasugi off. Without even waiting for his reply, the orange-haired kid turned to an unwary Gintoki and whispered," It looks a bit hard trying to get that food from you… maybe I should…" he winked. "_Push _you first instead?"

With that, the large kid made for the silver-haired child's chest. Takasugi watched with rising dread, aware that his own hands were reaching out but not going to be able to reach in time. He could only absorb the sight of a pair of hands, subtly reaching to push the unwary Gintoki to the floor… at least, that's what he thought, until the silver-haired child somehow sidestepped the large kid with supreme ease, opened his eyes and looked at them with those red-lidded, dead fish eyes.

"Sorry I took so long," the silver-haired child said lazily. The fact that a kid had just toppled onto the floor seemed not to faze him. "Meditation was hard, but I got it. It was a bother though."

Takasugi stared at him blankly; the lackeys stared at him with gaping mouths. The only one who was not staring listlessly was a certain orange-haired kid, who was busy coughing the dirt out of his mouth and getting to his feet simultaneously.

"Y-You…" Mashiro sputtered once he was standing up. His face was interestingly red; that fall must have been real embarrassing for him. "How dare you make fun of me... you will regret it!"

Gintoki raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Sorry about that… I just had a vision that a pig will come pushing on me. Being the smart guy that I am, I don't wish to be flattened by that _pig._ Sorry about that!"

Takasugi stared at the silver-haired child; a mix of incredulity and apprehension clouding his emotions. On one hand, since when did Gintoki possess such carefreeness and composure in front of his most hated bully? On the other hand, they were in deep trouble. Without any weapons or stuff to aid them, they were going to be _flattened _by those three kids.

"You…" Mashiro spat, his entire face enwrapped in a scowl. Slowly, he regained his bearings and drew back a clenched fist. "Die-"

"What are you doing?"

The group of children instantly froze on the spot. Even the orange-haired kid stowed his fist back in his pocket and tried to look innocent.

"S-Sensei…?" Takasugi mumbled incoherently as a man with long grey-brown hair treaded to their side. "W-What are you doing here…?" In the midst of his rambling, he noticed a visibly subdued Gintoki. For some reason, the silver-haired child was looking stoically at the floor.

"What are _you _doing here?" Yoshida Shouyo chided. All of the kids seemed to shrink right there and then. "It's lunchtime; you're supposed to be in the cafeteria with your lunches." He stood there, taking in all the guilty looks that greeted him. "And what was with the influx of students to my classroom just now? Why were they shouting about an alien kidnapper?"

If Mashiro had been in a turd just earlier on, this was the time for him to shine. Looking up with an evil grin, he pointed to a taken aback Takasugi and a downcast Gintoki and said," They were the culprits, Sensei! They wanted to take all the food, so they set off this really loud firecracker in the courtyard!"

"But, Shouyo-sensei…!" Takasugi retorted. He couldn't afford to have his teacher look disappointedly at him. "They called Gintoki names and tried to take the food away from us!"

"No, we didn't!" Mashiro protested quickly. He looked to his lackeys for support, who promptly complied with quick nods of their heads. "We just wanted to stop them from taking the food away, that's all!"

"No, Sensei!" Takasugi was at his wit's end. It didn't help that his only ally was spacing out again. "You've got to believe me – they were calling Gintoki really insulting names and- wait a minute." He stared at the trio, who were looking defensive all of a sudden. "How did you know that we set off a firecracker?"

Mashiro glanced back, trying to shrug indifferently. "I-I saw it happen… that's why-"

"No, you didn't," Takasugi looked at him suspiciously. The orange-haired kid was avoiding his eyes. "You heard us right from the start, didn't you? You heard us when we were planning earlier on…" he narrowed his eyes. "You _used _us. You waited for us to get the food, before taking it away from us. You planned it right from the very beginning…"

"I-I don't understand what you're talking about…" Mashiro objected softly, his caramel eyes darting to his lackeys constantly. "I don't understand-"

"No wonder you knew where we were heading…" Takasugi breathed. The trio seemed to be on tiptoes. "I was an idiot… to miss it…" Pointing to the three of them, he looked at his teacher. "Shouyo-sensei, they had us right from the start. They are the ones who should be scolded!"

"No, Sensei!" the trio protested weakly. "We didn't-"

"Quiet, please," Yoshida said. It came out barely more than a whisper, but elicited instant silence from the kids. Looking between all the desperate faces slowly, and hanging onto the silver-haired child for a slightly longer time, he paused and said, "From what I heard, all of you were at fault… but I want to hear the truth from a single person." Turning to a still-silent silver-haired child, he creased his eyebrows. "Gintoki, will you tell me the truth? Did you set off the firework in order to take food away in the entire commotion? Did Moritaka, Akito and Yuuichi really call you names and try to take your food away by force?"

The entire group slowly turned to face the silver-haired child. Takasugi was silently begging for Gintoki to leave out the explosion part while the rest were literally glaring at him, as if daring him to mouth them off to their teacher. But they needn't have worried; Gintoki simply smiled faintly and said, "Don't worry, Sensei. I was the one who proposed the idea and got the food. Takasugi merely followed me to help; he didn't mean to go against the norms. Mashiro and the rest didn't insult me and neither did they want to take my food away. It was my fault and mine alone."

**-.X.-**

There was a loud silence in the seconds that followed. Takasugi was staring at the silver-haired child blankly; even the trio were looking at him quietly. Yoshida took in the words slowly.

"Is that the _real _truth, Gintoki?" the long-haired man questioned gently. When the silver-haired child nodded subtly, he paused and looked at the faces of the others. They were not quite adept at hiding their expressions. Narrowing his eyes, he gazed at Gintoki again and asked softly, "Gintoki, will you look at me in the eyes?"

He did not miss – could not miss – the child's reaction at those words. The silver-haired child seemed to stiffen. Yoshida considered the child's resolute profile for a while longer, before sighing. There was no use in pushing the child any further; Gintoki could be really stubborn at times. Drawing a long, brown sword from his side, he said, "Gintoki, here."

When the silver-haired child turned around in curiosity, Yoshida motioned for him to put down the food for the moment. "You forgot to take the sword with you," the older man smiled. "You shouldn't forget your own sword-"

The other children looked on curiously as their teacher paused momentarily. After a few seconds, without another word, Yoshida bade farewell to them, reminded them to report to class punctually in half an hour's time and began to leave. As the long-haired man walked on, he was enveloped in thoughts… or more specifically, those eyes that he had inadvertently met when passing a certain sword; a pair of eyes that did not just radiate the innocence of a child.

They were the ones of a war-weary one; he should know, since he saw too many of them on the battlefield. The question was… why were his protégé's eyes the same as the heroes who have walked the red battlefield?

**-.X.-**

Over on the children's side, Takasugi was staring at Gintoki. "I thought there was something off about you…" the black-haired kid said slowly. "I totally forgot that you did not have your sword with you…" Blinking, he looked at the trio, who looked uncomfortable with the entire situation. Raising an eyebrow, he asked coldly, "And _what _are you still doing here? Take your food and _leave_."

Mashiro glared at him, before waving for the attention of his lackeys. Once they had all the food propped up on their arms, he shot one last look at them. "Don't think that I owe you, demon," the orange-haired kid said shortly. "The food was _ours _from the start. Come on, boys. Let's go."

"Yeah, whatever," Takasugi said nonchalantly as he watched them leave. "You were totally pissing your pants earlier on." Turning to Gintoki, he sighed. "Come on, Gintoki. There's no food; let's go- Gintoki…?"

He stared on blankly as the silver-haired child seemed to lose his balance. The next second, Gintoki was on the floor with his eyes closed. Nonplussed, Takasugi crouched to his knees and touched the silver-haired child's shoulder. "Gintoki…? What's wrong…?" His eyebrows creased when he registered the heavy breathing on Gintoki's part; he reached out a hand and felt the silver-haired child's forehead.

"Y-You're burning up!" Takasugi exclaimed urgently. "I need to get you to the infirmary! Can you hear me, Gintoki…? Gintoki…!"

**-.X.-**

"Takasugi!" a voice streamed from the entrance of the infirmary. "Where are you?" The said Takasugi cursed under his breath, withdrew the curtains of the particular unit and poked his head out. "Don't make so much noise, Zura! This is the infirmary for goodness sake. Here…!" he motioned for the ponytailed child to come in.

Once they were settled around Gintoki's white, linen bed, Takasugi drew back the curtains after them. "Have you told Shouyo-sensei?" he asked crisply, taking a seat beside the ponytailed child.

"Yeah…" Katsura said softly. "He said he will visit as soon as possible." He watched the resting figure on the bed with a concerned expression on his face. "What happened to him, Takasugi? What on _earth _happened…?"

Takasugi sighed. He hated it when people turn to him for answers that he did not _know_. Turning to Gintoki as well, he said, "I have no idea. He just collapsed all of a sudden; no warning, nothing. His forehead just seemed to burn up all of a sudden."

Katsura did not take his gaze off Gintoki for a few minutes, before turning away almost hesitantly. He stared at the plain, white walls listlessly. "I should have known that it was too good to be true; Gintoki actually opening up? It looks like it was just his fever talking after all."

"That's not really true, Zura…" Takasugi said softly. "There were moments when he… was acting really strangely… I don't know if that was just his fever, honestly speaking…"

"It's not Zura. It's Katsura!" Katsura protested. "Strangely…?" He took his gaze off the wall, landing it on the resting figure on the bed once again. "What do you mean…?"

Takasugi proceeded to relate the entire story to Katsura. It was really irritating, since the ponytailed child kept interrupting. When he finally finished, he felt as if he had lost thirty years off his life before he was even thirty.

"Really…?" Katsura breathed. "Gintoki actually stood up to those damn bastards?"

"Yeah," Takasugi replied in kind. He was still thinking about how the silver-haired child had sidestepped an onrushing Mashiro with his eyes _closed_. Where had Gintoki acquired such fluid skills from? "I was surprised myself."

They shared a thoughtful silence that reached beyond mere seconds. When it was finally broken, it was a question laced with thoughtfulness and affection.

"Has Gintoki been gripping that sword since he came here?" Katsura asked warmly. When Takasugi replied, the answer was traced with similar affection, although it was more hesitant.

"Yeah, ever since he received the sword. In fact, even when he was unconscious, he was still holding on to his sword. No matter how I pulled, he refused to let go of it. It was as if… as if he didn't want to lose that sword… as if he had _lost _that sword before and never wanted to go through the experience again…"

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, as I said in my previous author's note, I owed this chapter for a _really _long time. I might owe the next one for a long time as well, so please be patient. ;)**

**Preview for Chapter 2**

**Protection**

**Gintoki faces off against Mashiro in a Kendo demonstration reel.**

**Unorthodox skills**

**Please look forward to it!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Genre: Drama/Humour**

**Rating: K+ (Pretty kid-friendly, if I may say so myself.)**

**Disclaimer: All rights belong to the ingenious gorilla, Sorachi Hideaki.**

**A/N: Heads up, guys! It's been a long time, and in return, I present an equally **_**long **_**chapter. ;) On another note, I apologize for several discrepancies in the previous chapter; (Namely, the mistake that Shouyo-sensei addressed his own students other than Gintoki by their freaking last names) I have since amended that error in judgement, though. As a result, he will be calling his students on a first-name basis; for example, Shinsuke, Kotaro, Moritaka and so on. Another one is the lack of proper page breaks; the story just seemed to flow on and on, with sudden changes in point of views. Apologies for that error in judgement! I have since amended that as well! Oh yeah, about the whole bully and corpse-ridding demon getup, it wasn't an original idea of mine. I actually incorporated it after reading MeLikesROFL's **_**What If. **_**Sorry for taking that part of yours without consent, MeLikesROFL! But this is hardly the time for ranting, is it? **

* * *

**Gintama - A Second Chance**

**Chapter 2**

_It was dark, pitch dark. Gintoki stared around his surroundings, utterly nonplussed. Where was he? He paused; there were sounds. He strained his ears. There were muffled sounds of… explosions… and… cries…? He blinked; what did they mean?_

"…_one chance, kiddo. Get it right…"_

_The silver-haired samurai jerked upright; that voice was strangely familiar. Who did it belong to…? Before he could remember, though, he found himself standing on air. The floor had given way. He falls through the air, waving his arms to no avail. __His screams rang throughout the infinite black passage, seemingly incoherent to even his own ears. _He was going to die, swallowed by the endless darkness that was the abyss… 

Gintoki's eyes snapped open. Panting heavily, he stared at a tasteless, white ceiling, his mind in a whirl. Slowly, as he sat upright, his eyes began to dart around his surroundings; wasn't he falling through an indefinite hole? As his eyes glazed over, he realised that he was just in a dream; one hell of a sadistic dream, he must mention. Damn it, of all the times to get a dream, he gets a nightmare straight off the block. If only he had such luck in the pachinko parlour… he won't have to live life with empty pockets all the time.

Wait, where was he? He looked around; there were blue curtain blinds pulled around him and he was lying on this white, linen bed that felt stiff to the back. A distinct, curling smell was in the air; it reminded him of bittersweet medicine, a notion which prompted an involuntary shudder from him. It was quiet, so quiet that he felt that there will be echoes if he even raises his voice by a single notch. He narrowed his eyes; was he in a hospital room? If so, how had he got into the hospital in the first place...? He vaguely remembered a sword, but what had a sword got to do with him? He didn't get pierced through, did he? Quickly, he gave his own body a quick one-over, checking for any life-threatening, prominent wounds that could mean his imminent demise.

"Hmmm…?" he murmured as he caught sight of a long, brown sword tucked neatly in between in his hands. When had he been carrying a sword like that? Who had given it to him? Wait a minute, why was this sword so familiar…?

_Here, Gintoki. Don't forget your own sword…_

The silver-haired child sighed as he ruffled his own hair; it seemed to coo under his touch, although steadfastly refusing to lose its curly edge. Gintoki stared at the sword. Of course, he was back in the past. He had completely forgotten about it. And this… this must be the sword his teacher had gifted him. _This_ must have been the sword that he had been lugging around for the whole of his childhood. His eyes narrowed. Ironically, just when he really needed it, it had been absent in his hands…

He lay back on the bed, his hands resting behind his head; his sword rested on his side. His dead fish eyes were concentrating on the pallid, white ceiling. Everything was a mess. Why was he trapped in the past; why was he trapped at this specific point of time? He couldn't even start to imagine the reason why he could have encountered such a phenomenon. Last time he checked, the world had run into an apocalyptic situation in five years' time. He raised his eyebrow in exasperation. What was happening now; a zombie outbreak in ten years' time?

Gintoki's gaze gradually wandered – from the pallid ceiling to the blue, unattractive blinds around him and to the sword at his side. His eyes narrowed as he absorbed the familiarity of the long, brown _katana_. So, that was the sword that his teacher had gifted him all those years ago, huh? He had nearly forgotten about it. He absent-mindedly reached out a hand and caressed the edge of the sword – it felt sharp, _untainted_. That's right, in a few years to come; the innocent-looking sword will be forced to taste the vile blood of numerous Amanto. And he, the Shiroyasha, will have been the one to force it.

The silver-haired child chuckled – it was dry and hollow. Battles, battles and more battles... When will they ever end? Just when he thought that he had settled into a normal and comfortable lifestyle (Although slightly marred by the presence of two brats), something had happened and _boom_, he was here, trapped in the past with no inkling whatsoever on where to go or how to return to his timeline. If somebody was going to send his mere consciousness back to the past, the least that the idiot could do was to implement a note of sorts and scribble: Note – please do this and that while you're in the past and get your ass back over here. Apparently, the perpetrator was no mere idiot; he was a totally clueless, rambling fool who liked to send silver-haired males back to the past for the sake of sending.

Gintoki sighed; he shielded his eyes with a hand lazily. At the rate things were going, he was never going to have that parfait – he seriously doubted that there were affordable strawberry parfaits at this time of age…

He narrowed his eyes. Wait a minute… if things continue to progress at this rate… The silver-haired child sat upright on the bed and looked back over his shoulder. There was an ancient-looking calendar perched neatly on the bedside table. Gintoki skimmed through the numbers rapidly, before landing his eyes on a specific number someone had circled beforehand. Sakata Gintoki – Fever, it said beside the circle. The silver-haired child was silent as he absorbed the small digits into his mind.

What if… what if he had been sent back to the past for a reason? What if that reason had involved his teacher? He could not think of any other reason why he could have been sent to the past and stuck in his child form. After all, there were only roughly three months from the looks of it – three months until the Kansei purge – whereupon the Tensho sect will arrive and detain his teacher. He might have forgotten a whole chunk of his childhood, but he could not in his entire life forget that exact date... a day that subjected him to a period of torrid _hell_.

He could feel his heart beating uncontrollably. What if… what if he had been sent back to the past to _save _his teacher?

**-.X.-**

Gintoki treaded through the familiar hallways with a wistful air – he had somehow managed to convince the disapproving infirmary nurse that he was just going for a quick walk and back. He looked around the boundaries – the doors, the shouts of children and the tranquility in the air – as he traversed the length of the corridors. Finally, he emerged into the open area - a sparsely furnished courtyard with pine trees growing at the horizons - which he had been looking for. Gripping his sword with both hands, he made for the shrine-like entrance that admitted entry to the entire school.

As he stood with his back resting against one of the wooden pillars that constitute the said shrine-like entrance, he gazed up at the azure blue sky. There it was; it was a sight that he had become accustomed to. The birds flying freely through the air, the clouds moving lazily through the atmosphere and the dozens of sakura and maple trees lining the entire area – from the stretch of road to his right and left and at the base of the flighty steps; even in the future, he had taken to absorbing the very sight he was witnessing at the moment. He subconsciously closed his eyes; it will be good to get away from all the weirdness for something that he was actually _familiar _with.

Saving his teacher… did he even dare to think of such a thought…? Consequences of time-travelling were rampant; how many stories has he heard of people screwing up their own existences by travelling to the past and fiddling with the wrong things? For all he knew, his teacher's survival might mean the end of the world, not that he wasn't familiar with the notion. Yet, the fact that he had been sent to the past with all memories intact could only mean one thing: saving what he couldn't in the past.

The silver-haired child slowly opened an eye; he flexed his muscle; there was virtually none save for baby fats. How were his swordsmanship skills acting up? Will he be able to carry out his usual fighting stances in his current state? He narrowed his eyes; he had to know. Looking at his sword, he unsheathed the long, brown _katana _from its cage and gripped it firmly in his right hand. He concentrated solely on the positioning of his feet and his control over the sword, before swinging his sword through the air. Beautiful arcs danced through the air; the very wind itself seemed to whistle alongside the slicing sword.

He ceased in mid-motion and looked at his sword with a frown. It was… slower than he had expected… heavier as well. He couldn't direct the sword as freely as he should; his slices couldn't seem able to even cut through a one hundred yen chopping board. Above all, the techniques felt... _foreign_, as if they once belonged to him, but have since switched loyalty and defected to another swordsman. Gintoki concentrated on the length of the blade. Was it a matter of his strength? Was it a matter of his arm length? Was it because he felt weird and unused with his current physical form? Just as he prepared to give the sword another test run, light footsteps could be heard behind him.

The silver-haired child turned around quickly, sheathing the sword as he did so. His eyes widened briefly, before flickering. A long-haired man was walking towards him with a warm yet slightly strict disposition. Gintoki gritted his teeth; he had met the gaze of his teacher once again, earning a gruesome image in return.

"Sensei?" the silver-haired child voiced innocently, making sure to keep his eyes on a piece of the sky just next to his teacher's face.

**-.X.-**

"Gintoki…" Yoshida said softly. "What are you doing here? You should be lying on a bed, resting yourself up." He cast a fleeting glance at the sword in Gintoki's grip; the silver-haired child instantly stowed it behind him. "Have you been… _playing _with the sword?" the long-haired man's expression was indiscernible.

Gintoki shook his head fervently. He kept the sword hidden behind him. The long-haired man gazed at him for a good, long while, before sighing and crouching to his knees. "Gintoki," Yoshida said gently. "No matter how much you want to practice your swordsmanship skills, there is time for it later. What's important now is to rest; rest is vital to protect one's soul. Without proper rest, your soul will be enervated. Do you understand me, Gintoki?"

The silver-haired child slowly nodded his head. Yoshida smiled faintly, before standing up and patting Gintoki's head gently. "Let's go, Gintoki," the long-haired man said. "You can't attend kendo class if your fever persists. Let's get you rested up, shall we?"

The silver-haired child nodded, before proceeding to walk in front of the long-haired man as they returned to the threshold of the school. Yoshida raised an eyebrow at that, but did not make any passing mention on it. Yet, as they walked back along the corridors, he could not help but feel that his protégé was the protector, and he, the one being protected.

Yoshida observed the straight back of the boy in front of him. He wondered what it all meant – the war-weary eyes, a refusal to meet his eyes, forgetting the sword that particular time, proposing an actual plan, walking in front of him in an almost protective fashion and…

The long-haired man did not know what to think, or what to say. Since when had his protégé wielded such skill in the sword? Right there and then, Yoshida made a split-second decision.

"Gintoki," he says softly. The child looked back over his shoulder, a curious look on his face. He subtly disregarded the lack of eye contact; it could be perused later on. Yoshida smiles faintly. "I didn't quite mete out a punishment for your disobedience, did I?"

The child looked on resignedly as the teacher chuckled to himself. Even if half of his inklings were right, Gintoki was still the same as ever – lazy, adorable and a tendency to get weary at assigned tasks.

"It's alright, Gintoki," Yoshida said warmly, his eyes twinkling. "Your fever is more than enough as far as punishments are concerned. However…" the child visibly hesitated, to which the long-haired man smiled faintly. "I will need your help – I will need a fellow swordsman-in-training to demonstrate to his fellow students in kendo training. Do you think you could help me? Of course, that's if you feel up to it when the time comes - your recovery is the priority right now."

The long-haired man wasn't disappointed. But then again, the child before him has never disappointed him. That nod of the child's small head was just like always – dazed, curious and helpful.

**-.X.-**

In the countryside school's infirmary, in a certain unit with blinds all pulled up, three boys were engaging in a serious debate, in which not one of them gave in to the other. Or rather, _refused _to give in to the other…

"Shouyo-sensei asked you to demonstrate in front of the class?" Takasugi rasped with audible belief. "He _asked _you to _demonstrate_-"

"For the umpteenth time, Takasugi, _yes_," the silver-haired child replied waspishly. "No, I'm not delusional; I'm not crazy. Sensei asked _me _to demonstrate, and I _don't _like it myself. So get off my back already and let me rest, idiot."

"B-But…" Takasugi mumbled uncertainly, before Katsura intervened, his eyes curiously closed.

"Stop it, Takasugi," the ponytailed boy said, his arms crossed over his own chest. "You heard him; he has been selected by Sensei for the demonstration."

As Takasugi swerved around with a defiant look on his face, clearly intending to dispute the words from the ponytailed boy's mouth, Gintoki sighed and rubbed his own forehead. He didn't want to admit it, but the fact remains that he really needed sleep; his head throbbed so badly he wondered if he was actually having a hangover. But with those two bickering all day long right by his bedside, it will be a downright miracle to even fall asleep. Closing his eyes, he tried to shut out the childish batter that was occurring around him and thought to himself – demonstration aside, how is he going to protect his teacher with such mundane skills?

Hard training will surely help, he argued mentally. But he was doubtful; when was the last time he had seriously trained? Add to that the fact that he was a freaking child; what could he hope to do, swing a large sword at a bunch of adults whole foots taller than him? He could imagine the embarrassment; the number of times he had gently placed his hand on a fiery Seita's head (The younger kid challenged Gintoki to a duel, to which the silver-haired samurai laughed off and simply placed his hand on the child's head, subtly preventing him from getting close) were clear reminders themselves.

The silver-haired child opened his right eye and took in the figures around him. It was funny, but he actually wished that they were in their adult forms. Sure, they weren't pleasant, but they sure as hell will be helpful; at least, more helpful than he is in his current state anyway. Slowly removing his hand from his forehead, he propped his hand under his chin. Saving his teacher… three months… how was he supposed to go with it? Damn it, why did he have to be sent back to his child-self's body? Why can't he be transported back in his physical state? It will have made so _many _things easier… (But, he reasoned that things will get kind of awkward if a grown man teleported into a room full of kids out of nowhere, bearing a distinct resemblance to a certain kid in the very same room)

"Gintoki, are you listening?" a voice jerked the silver-haired child out of his daze. Hand slipping off his chin, Gintoki looked up blearily to see Takasugi looking at him. The kid with short black hair was looking angry; his eyebrows were scrunched up.

"Yeah?" the silver-haired child asked casually, to which Takasugi sighed and Katsura seemed to nod his head, his eyes still closed. "What is _it_?" Gintoki demanded, pissed that two kids were actually acting in a patronizing way towards him.

"I can't believe that you weren't listening…" Takasugi muttered. "But then, you won't be Gintoki if you were _actually _listening. Anyways, listen up. Don't be shocked or anything though, Gintoki." The would-be destroyer paused hesitantly, to which Gintoki raised an eyebrow.

"Why will _I _be shocked?" the silver-haired child laughed softly. "I haven't been shocked since… I don't know – two years ago?" (The damn time when a certain redhead had consumed nearly eight bags of rice in one single sitting and was still going strong.)

"You weren't born yet," Takasugi slapped his own forehead. "But anyways-"

"Did you know the other person who was selected for the demonstration, Gintoki?" Katsura cut off the black-haired child, who looked incensed. Ignoring the look of hatred directed at him, the ponytailed child looked at Gintoki with an inquiring gaze.

The silver-haired child mulled over it for a moment, before shaking his head. "No idea. Why?"

Even Takasugi took time off his sullen expression to exchange brief eye contact with Katsura. Nonplussed, Gintoki looked at the both of them. "_What _is it?"

They appeared unwilling to tell him, but Katsura did open his mouth at the end. (About damn time too) When he opened his mouth, it was in a hesitant tone that Gintoki has not heard from the ponytailed child for quite a long period of time. "Well, Gintoki…" Katsura said slowly. "It… err… problem is that…"

Gintoki wanted to chuck his sword at the blubbering fool, before the said blubbering fool looked up and finished his sentence. "That person is none other than… Mashiro… Mashiro Moritaka."

The silver-haired child acted uncaring, but his gut was reacting to the name itself. He gritted his teeth. Was his child-self's paranoia that difficult as a child? Ignoring it, he yawned and asked, "So…?"

They looked taken aback by his response; they shot one quick look at each other before Takasugi leant forward in his seat. "It's Mashiro, Gintoki. That Mashiro…!" Beside him, Katsura nodded so rapidly that Gintoki feared for his head.

"Yes, yes, I heard you the first time," Gintoki said nonchalantly. "So what…? He's just a conceited, good-for-nothing pig; I don't fear him."

He watched on as they went silent. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that they were going through some really, really strong change internally.

"It wasn't the fever, after all…" Takasugi breathed. "It wasn't the fever…"

"Incredible…" Katsura said in an almost reverent tone. "Incredible… I really doubted your words earlier on, Takasugi, but incredibly, your words were _right_!"

Takasugi shot a look of loathe at his ponytailed neighbour, before looking at Gintoki with an almost appraising gaze. "I wasn't wrong then… you've really opened…" He suddenly looked serious, taking Gintoki aback. (Just how many emotions did that guy have?) "But… Mashiro's swordsmanship is better than your's…"

Takasugi settled back in his chair in an almost weary fashion. "If it was me, I will have ripped his ass in half. But, Gintoki…" He blinked. "I fear that he will use the occasion to exact revenge against you…!"

"I told you countless times to get your act together," Katsura chided. Gintoki subtly registered his motherly instincts. Apparently, they were present right from childhood. "Now see what you've landed into! Geez…!"

As they looked at him concernedly, Gintoki could not help but feel stifled. Had he been that _helpless _as a child that they needed to _mother_ him? He sure doesn't remember having been so inefficient; come on, he had a freaking sword in his hands the whole time. Surely he had been spurred to train with the sword…? He shoots them another look. No, apparently not. From the looks on their faces, it was almost as if they feared for his life… hold on, it wasn't almost; it was definite. Those idiots think that he's really going to die.

Gintoki sighed. Did they think that his teacher was just going to stand there and let a murder happen before his eyes? Seriously, he had to envy kids sometimes. Opening his eyes wearily, he looked at them and said, "It's _alright_. You shouldn't worry about me; you should worry about that guy instead." Eyebrows narrowed in concentration, he smirked. "It's not every time that a guy gets to whip a kid who made his childhood hell, after all."

Katsura and Takasugi stared at him blankly. Since when had their friend been so… _fearless_…?

**-.X.-**

The creaky and rundown kendo training venue - a large and unpleasant-smelling, dusty brown hall that has surely seen better days - was accommodating dozens of children; all of whom were staring at their beloved teacher, who in turn was taking a long look at the clock. In the midst of the children were two particularly anxious children, who were taking quick looks at the entrance to the hall every now and then. One of them was drumming his hands on the floor restlessly; the other was fidgeting with his ponytail.

"He's not going to come, is he?" the kid with the short black hair said softly. His fingers formed a rhythm on the wooden, brown floor. "He's _not _going to come, right?"

"I don't know…" the kid with the ponytail said slowly. His fingers patted the tail end of his pony tail in an almost lingering manner. "But he did listen to us… did he?"

"I think he did…" Takasugi took a look at the wooden doors that were the entrance to the hall. "I'm pretty sure we got through to him…"

"Well, then I'm sure that he won't come," Katsura said in a more confident tone. His hands slipped to his sides. "He barely recovered; it will be suicide if he comes."

"I do hope so..." Takasugi whispered back. "But somehow… he doesn't seem like the Gintoki we know, does he?"

Katsura looked at the wooden floor stoically. "That isn't a bad thing, Takasugi. Rather, I like the way Gintoki's acting now. It seems more natural; more like how he will actually act personally."

Over at the front, Yoshida Shouyo observed as the clock struck twelve. Taking his gaze away from it, he turned his attention to the group of children before him. "Alright, we can't wait any longer. Regretfully, we will have to leave out Gintoki for this session. I'm sure that he has not fully recovered yet, so we should leave him to rest for the moment." Yet, almost as he said it, his face betrayed a slight hint of disappointment. Steadying himself, he said, "As you all know, it will be demonstration for today. I wish for all of you to learn from your peers at the front as they spar; take note of their flaws and absorb their proficiencies."

The class echoed their approval. Yoshida gave a faint smile and said, "For today, we will have Moritaka up at the front. Moritaka, if you will." He took a step back as an orange-haired kid got up to his feet with a grin and walked to the spot beside Yoshida.

"Damn it," Takasugi hissed. "That idiot sure likes attention." His eyebrows scrunched up when the orange-haired kid stopped right beside Shouyo-sensei. "Get away from Shouyo-sensei, you-"

He unleashed several extreme profanities; Katsura swiftly started to berate him. "Children shouldn't use such words…!"

Yoshida pondered as he observed the class. "We will need a volunteer from the class today," he said clearly. "Will anyone step us and spar with Moritaka?"

Silence ensued, to which Yoshida raised an eyebrow to. "Anyone…?" he asked slowly, looking through the sea of faces before him. He was impassive as every single pair of eyes seemed to avoid his gaze. "Anyone…?" he repeated, almost pleadingly.

Takasugi looked around his peers with his eyebrows scrunched up. "Why isn't anybody volunteering?"

"They fear Mashiro, that's why," Katsura stated matter-of-factly. "Nobody likes to go up against the class bully… especially when he's the tallest kid in the class as well."

Takasugi gritted his teeth. It hurt him to have his beloved teacher looking like that. "I'm going," he muttered. "I can't stand seeing Shouyo-sensei like that any longer. I'm going-"

"Sensei," a voice streamed from the front. Despite himself, Takasugi halted mid-stand and stared at the orange-haired kid; beside him, Katsura was doing the same. "Sensei, shouldn't Gintoki be the one doing the demonstration with me? Why isn't he here?"

Yoshida was calm. "He must have his reasons, Moritaka," he said softly. "He has only just recovered from a fever."

"But, Sensei," Mashiro pointed to a figure in the crowd. Takasugi noticed that it was one of his lackeys. "Takagi has diarrhoea and he's still here!"

"Ah… that…" Yoshida started.

"It's not fair, Sensei!" Mashiro protested. Takasugi subtly noticed that he was smirking. "Why should Gintoki be able to skip training when Takagi is in a worse state than him? It's not _fair_, Sensei! And we also waited for him just now. Why do we have to _wait _for him, Sensei? It's just not _fair_!"

The long-haired man looked lost; Mashiro took the chance to look to the sea of faces for support. After a threatening stare, the class gave in and started echoing the orange-haired kid's words. Mashiro, with a triumphant smirk on his face, turned back to the visibly silent Yoshida and said, "He should be punished, Sensei. It's unfair to grant him special treatment! What about the rest of us? Do we not deserve special treatment?"

Yoshida did not speak a single word. Mashiro saw his chance and added to his repertoire of words. "In fact, he shouldn't deserve special treatment at all, Sensei!" the orange-haired kid urged. "After all, we don't know a single thing about his backstory; what if he was some cannibal who eats children's flesh? We will be in danger, Sensei!"

Takasugi could feel the blood coursing through his veins. "He's going to die," he spat, making to get onto his feet. "He's going to die a terrible death." Beside him, a similarly enraged Katsura was making the same move.

"Enough," Yoshida said. Takasugi and Katsura froze in their motions; Mashiro looks pale. It looks like he has finally bitten more than he could afford to chew. "Don't speak about a fellow classmate that way." The long-haired man might have stated the words softly, gently, but there was an undeniably hard edge to the words. It was without wonder why the whole class seemed to stare at their teacher blankly; since when had their beloved Shouyo-sensei spoken in such a… _cold _way?

There was a tensed silence, during which everyone seems frozen in their places. Yoshida slowly started to realize what he did; shaking his head briefly, he smiled faintly and turned back to the class. "Sorry, class. I went-"

A sound of a wooden door being opened erupted from the end of the hall. Everyone turned to look as a silver-haired child walked into the training hall, gripping his long, brown sword with both hands. No words were spoken as the child treaded to their midst; he looked curiously at them. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"That idiot…!" Takasugi gritted his teeth. "I told him _not _to come. He didn't _hear _me…!"

**-.X.-**

"Gintoki…?" Yoshida looked at the silver-haired child inquiringly. The silver-haired child looked at him, and it was then that the long-haired man realized; the child was no longer refusing to meet his eyes. Rather, the silver-haired child was _refusing _to deviate from his eyes. "What are you doing here…?"

The child looked around his surroundings. "Wasn't I picked for some demonstration?" When Yoshida nodded slowly, he shifted his sword to one hand and picked his nose with the other. "Well, that's what I'm here for." The long-haired man subtly registered an invisible 'Obviously' somewhere in the air.

"Are you sure, Gintoki…?" Yoshida gathered his thoughts; now wasn't the time to harbour idle thoughts. "I mean, you just recovered…"

"I'm sure he's fine, Sensei," Mashiro exclaimed. "I'm _sure _of it. Right, _Gintoki_?" A look passed between the two boys.

"Well, if you're sure…" Yoshida said uncertainly. He took a look at the time and nearly started. It's twelve-thirty already? "Alright, if you're really fine, please get your gear on."

There was a shuffle as both boys reached for the equipment laid neatly on the brown floor. It didn't take minutes before both children were fully suited up; Gintoki in his red apparel and Mashiro in his blue apparel. Taking up the kendo swords they used primarily for training, they proceeded to face each other.

Yoshida considered the silver-haired child for a moment. Should he switch the child out for another, more appropriate student? After all, Gintoki might have a relapse so soon after he had only just recovered. He was just about to renege on the match line-up when he saw the look in his silver-haired protégé's eyes; they were set and blazing, a distinct difference from the lazy eyes that he has always had.

The long-haired man made a decision. Making sure that they are well-positioned inside the designated area for kendo sparring, he took one last look at both of their gears, ascertained that they were properly put on and said, "Watch carefully, class. Observe their flaws and absorb their proficiencies." When the class echoed their agreement, Yoshida said, "Alright, Gintoki and Moritaka, you may start… now."

**-.X.-**

"You're mine, demon…!" Mashiro whispered threateningly into the air as he bounded forward, his kendo sword gripped firmly between his hands. "I will take you down within one blow and have Sensei praise me."

His eyes widened despite himself; the silver-haired demon was simply standing there with his sword positioned within the fingers of his right hand. Is he not even going to dodge? Mashiro smirked; it was all the better for him then. He could actually take the time to aim.

The orange-haired child flashed his teeth as he went right for the kill. "You're going down, demon-"

He held his breath as he slashed his sword at… air. Somehow, the silver-haired demon had disappeared right before his eyes. Sweat forming at the sides of his forehead, he stood there, unmoving. Since when had the demon been so… _fast_?

"Blah, blah, blah, blah… shut the hell up already. You're annoying," a voice streamed from his back. Startled, Mashiro turned around and lashed out blindly. Once again, he struck solid air.

"Where are you…?" he blinked, rasping in disbelief. "You demon…" He held back any further words; his eyes were fixated on the tip of the sword at his throat. How did the demon move so _fast_? The moment he swerved slightly to his right, the sword had appeared right at his throat.

"You were saying…?" the silver-haired demon whispered with a smirk on his face. Mashiro flushed as he tried not to get cross-eyed staring at the tip of the sword.

"Demon," he spat, before hesitating. The sword was getting touchy-feely with his throat. He shot a defiant look at the demon; the silver-haired demon was replying in kind. Moments seemed to pass, before Mashiro lost his composure. Sweat streaming down his face mercilessly, he bit his lips and said, "G-Gintoki…"

"Sorry…? I can't hear you," the demon said maddeningly. Mashiro wanted to revolt at that very moment, but the sword seemed to titter threateningly at his throat. Gritting his teeth, he said loudly, "Gintoki!"

He took an unsteady gulp as the sword slowly edged away from his throat. Before he knew it, he was kneeling on the floor; he was panting, his very breaths coming in ragged tatters. He knew that his face must be as white as chalk; after all, his hands felt as cold as ice. Slowly, he looked up at the demon; the silver-haired demon was already walking back to the class in the midst of total silence.

"D-Did I just… lose to… _him…_?"

**-.X.-**

Yoshida was silent, but then, so was the entire class. He wasn't quite sure what had transpired in the sparring area, but the end result had been the silver-haired child's victory. All he knew was that Gintoki had seemed to… _dance _in the area, flashing past Moritaka's guard on numerous occasions in the matter of… ten seconds. In fact, the silver-haired child could have ended the fight in three seconds flat, when he had ghosted to the orange-haired child's back. However, for some reason, Gintoki simply chose to wait for Moritaka to turn around, before dodging a wild lash on the latter's part. Just as the orange-haired child turned slightly to the right, there Gintoki was, with his sword at Moritaka's throat.

It seemed… _surreal_. The silver-haired child that he knows, Gintoki, has never been adept at the art of swordsmanship. Yoshida should know; he has seen the silver-haired child hard at training every day when the class were on their breaks. It wasn't that Gintoki was not talented in swordsmanship; in fact, he was _extremely _talented. Yoshida knew that much from the way the child went about his stance and cuts. However, the silver-haired child's talent did not lean in the norm. For some reason, he struggled with the standard art of swordsmanship that Yoshida imparted; the entire class had taken it with a reasonable learning curve, but Gintoki could not quite grasp it. It had been numerous weeks – maybe even months – before Yoshida had taken a furious Gintoki aside one day and placed a hand gently on the child's head. The child had snapped after being repeatedly taunted by classmates for not being able to perform a simple manoeuvre.

"_Gintoki," Yoshida had said calmly. The child seemed to soften under his gaze; the long-haired man smiled faintly as he looked into those adorable eyes. "Today, I'm going to teach you a whole new technique."_

_The silver-haired child did not quite brighten at the words. On the contrary, he only seemed to cast his gaze at the floor in resignation. "What good could it do…?" the child utters wonderingly. "I will just fail at it again… and again…"_

_Yoshida looked at him for a moment, before bending down; he was looking at Gintoki right in the eyes. "Listen, Gintoki," the long-haired man said softly. "You are not a failure, and you will never be." At the child's disbelieving look, he whispers, "Tell me, Gintoki. Can a fish climb a tree?"_

_The silver-haired child pondered for a brief moment. "No," he said. Yoshida smiled and asked if a monkey could swim. Possibly wondering if his own teacher was making fun of him, Gintoki replied, "No."_

_The long-haired man nodded fondly. "Tell me, Gintoki. If that fish can't climb a tree, is it considered a failure?" _

_The silver-haired child shook his head slowly. "A fish can't climb a tree. It's nature. It can't be a failure." He hesitated. "Not like me…"_

_Yoshida wasn't about to give up. "A fish can swim. Is it talented?" _

_The child pondered for a moment. "Is it a trick question?" When the long-haired man shook his head, Gintoki said, "Then, I think it's talented… but also because of nature."_

_Yoshida nodded slowly. "What does the story of the fishes and monkeys tell you, Gintoki?"_

_This time, the silver-haired child was thoughtful for a good, long while. Yoshida never wavered; he simply gazed fondly into his protégé's profile. When Gintoki finally answered, the long-haired man found himself being surprised by the thoughtful reply. "I think… I think that they are both talented in their own ways… If they are put in each other's shoes… they can't make it… but if put in the right one… they will succeed…" He trailed off, hesitant._

_Yoshida smiled fondly at the child. "That's… right! You got it right, Gintoki! Give yourself a pat!" When the child smiled back, the long-haired man said, "It's also the same for you Gintoki. You might not succeed at the standard swordsmanship, but that does not mean that you can't succeed elsewhere-"_

"_Are you going to send me away?" Gintoki gasped, suddenly grabbing onto his teacher's robes tightly. "Are you going to send me away?" he repeated urgently._

_Yoshida gently patted his protégé's head. "No, Gintoki. I won't. Don't worry." When the child visibly softened, the long-haired man said, "You misunderstand my intentions, Gintoki. You don't need to leave to succeed; you can still succeed even when you are here."_

_At the child's curious stare, Yoshida smiled. "This will be your homework from now on, Gintoki. You will try to find your own style – invent one if you wish. Of course, you will continue to_ _undertake basic kendo lessons. They will be the basis in core after all. However, beyond the basics, it's free for you to undertake whichever path you wish. Your skills, your technique, it will be yours to decide and practice." The long-haired man gave one last pat on the child's head. "Is that alright, Gintoki?"_

_When the silver-haired child replied, it was with an unusually intense gaze. "Yes, Sensei... I will find my own way – my own bushido… I will never let you down…!" Yoshida laughed gently and stood up._

"_That's great, Gintoki," the long-haired man smiled. "Now, shall we get back to training? The rest are waiting for us." When the silver-haired child nodded eagerly, they set off together, back to the training hall they had left._

Yoshida slowly snapped back to the present as the silver-haired child took his leave from the training area; the child was walking back to the class in the midst of total silence. The long-haired man smiled faintly; it seems that the entire class were in shock at the child's display at skill, not just him. He caught the incredulous stares of two particular students and wondered vaguely. Will Shinsuke and Kotaro, the best in terms of swordsmanship thus far, be able to defeat Gintoki as he is now? He needn't have wondered any further, for one of the said students took it upon himself and stood up; staring at the silver-haired child with what could least be described as a challenging gaze.

"Gintoki," Takasugi Shinsuke said. Every single look was directed at him in turn, but he hardly seemed perturbed. "Spar with me." Yoshida noticed the subtle hint of forcefulness in Shinsuke's voice. It wasn't quite a request; it was more of a demand. The long-haired man could not help but smile. Has Shinsuke realized the potential that Gintoki has, and wishes to challenge for his own sake?

Yoshida slowly switched his gaze to Gintoki, who was picking his nose in an almost lazy fashion. "I have had enough of _sparring _with you, thank you," the silver-haired child flicked a booger carelessly. "Besides, nobody said that the demonstration will last beyond _one _round." The child shot a pointed stare at Yoshida, who chuckles silently. That was true; he didn't recall appointing Gintoki beyond one sparring demonstration.

"Yes, Shinsuke," the long-haired man said humorously. The raven-haired child turned to him. "I'm afraid that you will have to spar with Gintoki another time." He subtly notices the shot of defiance Shinsuke was directing at a nonchalant Gintoki. "Besides…" He took a look at the clock. "It's lunchtime. You could hardly spar on empty stomachs, could you?"

The class sounded their approval. Yoshida smiled. "Very well, class. You are dismissed for lunch. Report back to homeroom class at three in the afternoon, alright?"

With that, everyone shuffled out of the training hall, the sudden skills of a certain silver-haired child put aside for the sakes of their rumbling stomachs. Yoshida watched them leave, all the while smiling faintly to himself. Fishes can't climb up trees, but they can swim in rivers and oceans. Monkeys can't swim, but they can climb up trees. Talents can never be ascertained by a certain procedure or way; Gintoki… is one prime example of that.

**-.X.-**

"For the last time, Takasugi," a disgruntled Gintoki muttered over his third helping of curry rice. "_No_."

"That's unfair, Gintoki," Takasugi protested. His own serving of curry rice – his first – was hardly touched. "You sparred with that idiot. Why do you refuse to spar with me?"

"Thft's frigt, Kinkoki," Katsura mumbled, mouth full with curry. "I aslo fant-"("That's right, Gintoki. I also want-")

"Shut up, Zura. Eat your food," Gintoki said. He cleared his serving and instantly got to his feet. "Damn portions… who do they think they are feeding – children?" As he left the dining table for the cafeteria counter, Takasugi tentatively held up his spoon to his mouth. It was only when he tried to offload the content onto his tongue that he realised that his spoon was empty.

"Zura," Takasugi said, staring at his unfilled spoon. When his ponytailed counterpart uttered a muffled reply, he said, "His skills aside, do you think that he has been talking… weirdly…?"

"Fhi's fhot Shufa, fhi's Fahsuha…! Lfke fhow…?" Katsura replied through mouthfuls of rice. (It's not Zura, it's Katsura! Like how...?)

Takasugi buried his spoon into his plate of curry rice. "It's like… it's like he has been referring to himself as an adult… and us as children…" He swerved his gaze to his neighbour. "Do you think so too?"

Katsura upended the remaining contents into his own mouth. "Fhi's fush fouf fhimafinafion," he said seriously, or at least as seriously as he could with chunks of curry in between his teeth. "Kinkoki fhis fhill fho fhafme…" (It's just your imagination. Gintoki is still the same.)

Takasugi propped his chin under his left hand and twirled the spoon absent-mindedly with his right. "Well, it doesn't seem so to me…" Beside him, Gintoki settles down for his fourth consecutive helping. "Gintoki, spar with me!"

"For the fourth and last time, Takasugi," the silver-haired child mutters angrily. "_No._"

"Been making yourself comfortable, eh, demon…?" a cackling voice could be heard. The trio looked up to see another trio walking up to their particular table. "_Too _comfortable, isn't it?" Mashiro asked tauntingly as he stood right in front of them.

"What do you want now?" Takasugi shot at him. "You lost, fair and square. Now get lost." This sentiment was echoed by Katsura, who has mercifully finished his meal and stopped sounding like a broken duck.

Mashiro smirked. "_Lost, _me? Are you kidding me? I _lost_… to _him_…?" He gestured to Gintoki, who was busy stuffing his own mouth with curry. "You're _joking_, aren't you?"

"I could hardly joke right now, could I?" Takasugi said coldly. "The entire class saw how you lost to him. _Pathetically_, I should mention."

The orange-haired kid looked like he was having a fit. His face flushed red; he spat, "I-I only lost…" he seemed to search the air for imaginary words. "I only lost… because he… signed a contract with some demon…! Yes, that's why! He signed a contract with a demon and got super-fast. That's why I lost!"

Takasugi laughed; it was a high-pitched laughter that was cold and vicious somehow. In fact, if he paused and looked to his left, he will realise that Gintoki has stiffened for some reason. "Seriously…?That's the best excuse you could give? Forget pathetic, you're downright _pitiful_." He pointedly ignores the incensed look on Mashiro's face. "Now get the hell out of here. You're ruining our appetites." He takes a look at his neighbours' plates. "_My _appetite," he corrects.

The orange-haired kid could not think of a single retort to say; he simply stood there with his fist shaking at them. Slowly, he retreated with his lackeys, but not before firing a last, desperate leaving shot. "You're not getting lucky next time, _demon_. I will tear up your contract and rip you apart." Mashiro motioned to his lackeys and they left for the corridors.

"Leaving with your tails in between your legs? About time, idiots…!" Katsura called after them. When the said idiots disappeared from sight, the ponytailed child looked at his own empty plate. He gazes wistfully at Gintoki's nearly-finished plate. "Should I get another serving as well?" he wonders aloud.

"Here," Takasugi says casually. He pushes his plate to a delighted Katsura. "You can have mine. I'm not hungry." Sighing, he shot a furtive glance at the silver-haired child out of the corner of his eye. His eyes narrowed.

No matter what happens, he's getting his match with the silver-haired child. Those unorthodox skills Gintoki displayed; he _wanted _to go up against them.

Above all, he wanted to know whether the silver-haired child was really as Shouyo-sensei said - a fish that has finally realised that it shouldn't be climbing trees but instead, swim in the waters that it belongs... _thrives _in.

**-.X.-**

Right at the entrance of the countryside school, a silver-haired child was swinging his sword in arcs, teetering dangerously at the edge of the stairs that led to the bottom. Gintoki swung his sword through the air, his claret eyes narrowing as he directed the cuts and slices with deadly efficiency. After a bout of mock-battle with the air, he slows down and holds the sword to his side. The silver-haired child inclined his gaze; he observed the brilliantly blue sky with an indiscernible gaze. A sudden fiery gust of wind swept the trees into a frenzy; leaves of all shapes and sizes cascaded to the floor, embroiling Gintoki in what seemed to be an uninvited leaf storm. Yet, he hardly batted an eyelid even when leaves seated themselves on his tousled, silvery hair.

This time, he's going to save his teacher and fulfill the promise that he didn't manage to adhere to.

His eyebrows descended, lending him a fiery disposition that rivals the intensity of the leaves swirling around him.

Even if it costs him his life in the process.

* * *

**A/N: School started and life is really _hectic_. For some odd reason that was virtually unknown to me, I was appointed the vice representative of my class. (I'm a really quiet guy) As a result, there are loads of admin and vocal stuff to settle, which unfortunately means the setback of my manuscript-churning time. Right here, I apologize for long delays in chapters; I sincerely hope that you guys will wait patiently for any additions to this story or others...!**

**Cheers and until the next time, guys!**

**Preview for Chapter 3**

**Sabotage**

**Demon**

**K-K-K-KETSUNO ANA?**


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